


of art and alexander.

by essenceofheroism



Series: the a-z of alec and magnus. [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Malec, a-z series, everything malec really, malec fanfiction, malec ff, sh ff, shadowhunters fanfic, shadowhunters fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:18:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essenceofheroism/pseuds/essenceofheroism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is a. | “a” is for art & alexander.</p><p> when magnus sees alec for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of art and alexander.

**Author's Note:**

> i thought i’d start an “a-z of malec” series to just get back into writing again.  
> all chapters will be random.

Magnus has seen many tapestries and paintings from around the world. From the works of Le Louvre of France to Vienna to even England. He’s picked up so many talents and habits from his years that it’s now literally impossible for him to count. It’s honestly a blessing that he would never need a resumé for his line of work, because the ‘Highlight of Skills’ portion of that application would be quite difficult to summarize. When it came to talents, it was like Magnus reached for the stars, and the stars just begged to be touched by him. The world just begged to be conquered by him. Well, all of the world’s wonders but artistic talent. Art, it seemed, Magnus was incapable of creating. Now, his impeccable sense of fashion and the mind-blowing makeup that was so _signature Magnus Bane_ was of course an art form itself. Magnus was just untalented when it came to visual arts. But it didn’t take an artist to recognize quality art. Though it irritated Magnus beyond disdain, his inability to create beautiful art (without magic) didn’t stop his obsession with viewing and admiring it in countless museums and galleries and countries. Surrounding himself with artwork was Magnus’ guilty pleasure because fortunately, it didn’t take an artist to love art. The texture, the mixture on the canvas, the (mundane) magic of a two-dimensional surface reverberating and breathing with colour to come alive and surround you, materializing an entirely different dimension in the same room you stood it just second before; it was all quite a magnificent process. Good art, as Magnus had noted, always took his breath away.

The word that had come to Magnus Bane’s mind when he’d seen Alexander Lightwood for the first time was _“ethereal.”_ The boy in front of him was delicately carved, pale and towering, like an otherworldly, impeccable being that didn’t belong in any version of this stained, wretched world. Magnus would think this strange vibe of angelic grace attached to the boy was the effect of the Angel’s blood literally running through his veins, but this devastation to Alec, it wasn’t the side effects of his enchanted inheritance. This was all purely human, purely _him_. God, Magnus noted with awe, he was a _sculpture_. A weathered, ruined, sculpture. Carved not by careful hands nor with a chisel, but a boy born out of a thunderstorm. A dangerously beautiful creation. The sharp angles of his face were paired with his hazel eyes, tinged carefully with a majestic greens that fought with the brown strokes of cracking autumn leaves; they were empty and soaked with secrets all the same. Magnus saw dawn trapped in Alec’s eyes; a wrathful drawn, a revolution, full of whispered promises too dangerous to fulfil.  There was a goddamn _war_ in Alec’s eyes. War drums blaring, daring, in his irises, beckoning a day that wouldn’t come, awaiting a sun that couldn’t shine. He carried storms in his veins and sealed it all in with his tall frame and that nod of authority that marked Lightwoods so vividly. There was a graceful flow to him, a tamed wildness. Alec Lightwood: king of nothing; destroyer of everything. Master of all, but his own heart.

And though Magnus (quite evidently) preferred colour to black, Alec looked gracefully ghostly (in an exquisite, airy way) with his paleness a stark contrast to his gear. Like a cruel prince of shadows, Magnus thought, amused. It was oddly attractive, but then again, all of Alexander Lightwood was odd and attractive.

At that specific moment in time, Alec’s lashes lazily came down, a thick, dark shock of black against the porcelain plains of his face. His bowstring grazing the flushed, red, broken surface of his lips, and Magnus saw a thin sheen of blood break past his lower lips and strangely, a heated sensation coiled in the pit of his stomach. With precision, Alec trained his eyes on a target and Magnus saw the sharp exhale that left his mouth as the calloused fingers around the cutting string let go. A frenzy of fire and ash that remained of the demon in front of him flashed in his eyes and like glitter, Alec glowed.

Flustered, the boy turned around, looking at him for the first time, untamed hair haphazardly ( _and yet so perfectly)_ falling in his eyes and Magnus was caught off guard, wondering for a second if he knew it. If he simply knew how utterly  _breathtaking_ he was. Or perhaps the New York Institute only supplied mirrors to Jace Wayland’s rooms.

“I’m Alec,” he’d smiled.

Magnus Bane had seen tapestries and paintings from around the world. He was a lover of art, but he never picked favourites, nor did he revisit the same work twice, simply because every piece and every gallery had so much depth and beauty, and yet the next one was somehow even more exquisite than the last. But suddenly, and quite pathetically, Magnus knew that he’d trade all of France’s tapestries and all of Vienna’s sculptures and all the world’s colours just to see that smile again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on tumblr at ohliverfelicity.tumblr.com  
> prompts for further chapters are open. 
> 
> comments/feedback are always welcome!


End file.
